Six Sentence Sunday

“Fuck,” Dane cursed, grabbing me by the arm and pushing me behind him. “Of all the people…”

“Who is it?” I asked, trying to look around him.

“Remember when I told you that the Keres weren’t the only dangers you needed to worry about in Paris?” he asked, the howling of the wind whipping the words out of his mouth. I nodded and he indicated the man, who had also stopped his approach. “That’s who I was talking about.”

***

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~ by Nicole Bross on September 23, 2012.

I wrote, now you write.

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